Young Samurai: The Ring of Wind (16 page)

‘Hoist him,’ ordered the captain.

The two guards raised Crux off the deck and clear of the starboard bulwark. As he swung above the water, the other pirates looked grimly on.

‘May this be a lesson to you all,’ said Captain Arashi, indicating for the guards to let go of the line.

Screaming, Crux dropped out of view and plunged into the sea.

‘Are they
drowning
him?’ whispered Yori in alarm.

Jack, who’d heard of the punishment of keel-hauling from other sailors on-board the
Alexandria
, shook his head. ‘No, it’s far worse than that.’

The two guards pulled on the line until it went taut. Then, hand over hand, they hauled in the rope from the opposite bulwark. At one point, the line appeared to have stuck on the keel and they needed help to yank it free.

Crux eventually reappeared on the port side … or what was left of him.

Yori covered his eyes, nearly fainting from shock. Crux’s body had been dragged across the barnacles on the hull. The rough shells had grated the skin and flesh from Crux’s stomach, chest and face. The pirate was completely unrecognizable, his crucifix tattoo the only remaining clue to his identity. Blood poured from the open wounds.

‘A fitting punishment for a pirate,’ said Captain Arashi with satisfaction.

He let the tortured pirate hang there for all to witness the gruesome fate that awaited them. A spluttering of breath was heard from Crux’s torn lips. Half-drowned, the ninja pirate wasn’t dead yet.

‘And again!’ said the captain, indifferent to the man’s suffering.

The Wind Demons stood in sickened silence as their fellow pirate was hauled under the ship once more. This time, all that emerged from the sea was a ragged carcass of lifeless flesh.

Captain Arashi approached the next Wind Demon in line.

‘Where’s your pirate base located?’

Despite the grisly threat hanging from the yardarm, the pirate didn’t answer. It became apparent to Jack that the Wind Demons must have their own code of honour. Like
bushido
or
ninniku
, these men had made an unbreakable oath that bound them to silence, even in the face of torture and death.

‘Cut off his hands,’ ordered Captain Arashi, his patience at an end.

A samurai stepped forward,
katana
drawn. ‘Hold out your arms.’

The pirate refused, so another guard forced his limbs into position. The
katana
’s steel blade flashed through the air; the punishment over in the blink of an eye. Two soft fleshy lumps thudded on to the deck. A second later, the pirate began shrieking in agony, clutching his bloody stumps to his chest.

‘He’s bleeding all over my ship,’ complained the captain. ‘Throw him to the sharks.’

Jack was starting to reel from the sadistic brutality of Captain Arashi. The Sea Samurai were proving as cruel and heartless as the Wind Demons. Jack held out little hope that the captain would show either him or his friends a single ounce of mercy.

A third pirate refusing to answer was pulled from the line and bound, shirtless, to the mast. A muscular samurai held a short rope of nine waxed cords, each with a small knot in the end.

‘One hundred lashes,’ commanded Captain Arashi.

Jack gasped. That number was a death sentence.

The samurai commenced the flogging and the pirate screamed as the knotted rope whipped across his bare back and tore into his skin. By the time four dozen lashes had been inflicted, the pirate’s back resembled raw meat.

Yet still the punishment continued … 49 … 50 … 51 … 52 …

The flesh became mangled and the pirate hung limp from his bindings.

… 74 … 75 … 76 …

The pirate no longer screamed. Flogged to death.

Captain Arashi approached Yori, who stood trembling before him. ‘I hope
you
won’t need persuasion, little one.’

Yori looked up with fearful eyes. ‘But we’re
not
pirates. We’re samurai!’

Captain Arashi raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘I haven’t heard that one before.’

‘It’s the truth. We were held prisoners by the Wind Demons.’

‘I only have
your
word for that. Why should I believe you? My commanding officer informs me that you were fighting his men.’

‘We were only trying to escape from the pirates’ ship.’

Captain Arashi backhanded Yori across the jaw. ‘I despise people who lie.’

‘We’re not lying,’ pleaded Yori, a thin stream of blood running from the corner of his mouth. ‘We’d been on a pilgrimage to Shikoku Island when our boat was attacked …’

Captain Arashi ignored him and glanced down at Saburo. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘Poisoned by the pirates,’ replied Miyuki.

The captain snorted. ‘Quick answer, young girl, but don’t think that will convince me of your innocence.’ He kicked Saburo’s prone body and got no reaction. ‘Throw this corpse overboard too.’

‘NO! He’s only paralysed!’ protested Jack from beneath his hat.

Captain Arashi’s eyes narrowed. He stepped over Saburo to confront the straw-hatted pirate boy. Putting his stick’s brass tip to the brim, he pushed the hat clear of Jack’s face.

‘By all the storms in the sea, I never expected to lay eyes on
you
!’

The Bilge

‘The Shogun will bestow great fortune upon us for capturing the
gaijin
samurai,’ Captain Arashi declared to his crew. He reassessed the group of five before him. ‘Take them below and put them under guard. Set sail for Imabari; I want us there by the morning.’

Jack and his friends were separated from the Wind Demons. Cheng was assumed to be one of them and the pirate boy didn’t argue when a guard ordered him to help Miyuki carry Saburo. He preferred to take his chances as a wanted samurai rather than a condemned pirate.

A unit of guards escorted them below deck. The interior of the
atake-bune
was gloomy, lit only by a few oil lamps and the diamond-shaped shafts of sunlight that seeped through the loopholes and gun ports. The first and second decks were dedicated to battle. A number of cannon lined each side, although Jack observed that none matched the European artillery in terms of size or power. The Sea Samurai appeared to depend upon small-arms’ fire – arrows, bows, muskets and ammunition were neatly stacked beside each loophole. The samurai themselves sat in groups, recovering from the exertions of combat, some nursing wounds. They looked up in curiosity as Jack and the others were marched down the steps.

The stale smell of sweat struck their nostrils on the next deck. Eighty bare-chested men stood beside two rows of
yuloh
-style oars. The large heavy sculls were pivoted on a pin and counterbalanced by a rope running from the underside of the handle to the wooden floor. At the far end a large round drum hung from the ceiling. The captain’s command to set sail was given and a man started to pound out a heavy rhythm. The oarsmen grunted and groaned as they pushed and pulled on the massive roped oars, their muscles straining to propel the immense battleship through the water. From a standing start, the
atake-bune
slowly yet steadily picked up speed.

The deck beneath was given over to storage. Gunpowder, cannonballs, grappling irons, spears and other weaponry were stockpiled towards the stern. Spare ropes, sailcloth, wood and repair materials were stowed in the bow. In between, bales of rice, barrels of fresh water and other provisions were packed to the low rafters. Having to stoop as they passed through, Jack spotted their canvas bag and his red-handled swords among the pile of confiscated weapons from the pirates. He prayed the
rutter
was still safely hidden inside the bag.

‘Keep moving!’ said the guard, prodding Jack with his spear.

Ushered towards a set of rickety wooden steps, Jack descended with the others into the very bowels of the ship. Here in the dingy bilge – only a single oil lamp for light – a dank mildew smell filled the air. Their feet sloshed into knee-deep grimy water. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Jack could make out a large wooden grille that separated the square-ended bow from the rest of the ship. One of the guards unlocked a small door.

‘I hope you’ll be comfortable during your stay!’ he laughed.

The other guards grunted their amusement as they shoved Jack and his friends into the slimy confines of the ship’s on-board prison. Miyuki and Cheng lost their footing on the slick deck and Saburo fell face first in the water. Jack rushed to pull his friend out before he drowned. Rolling him on his back, he dragged Saburo to the side, propped up his head and wiped the putrid water from his face.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack.

Saburo didn’t blink.

Jack shook him. ‘Saburo! Are you –’

‘
Yesssss
,’ came the faintest of replies, no more than a breath.

Jack smiled with relief and held his friend close.

Bedraggled and dripping wet, Miyuki and Cheng got back to their feet.

‘No thanks to them,’ spat Miyuki, glaring at the guards as they locked the door. Two remained behind to keep watch over their charges, sitting on the steps to avoid the noxious bilge-water.

Jack and his friends didn’t have that luxury. They were forced to crouch in the darkness and sludge. Yori discovered a narrow ledge and they laid Saburo along it. He was still unable to move, yet the fact that he’d spoken gave them hope. But the cold dank prison was no place for him to recover. Jack took off his jacket, placing it over his friend in an attempt to keep him warm, while Miyuki quietly resumed her
Sha
healing.

From far off, a bloodcurdling scream was heard.

‘Sounds like the captain’s boiling that pirate alive!’ laughed one of the guards.

Cheng winced at their cruel jibe. ‘Not having arrived at the Yellow River, the heart is not dead,’ he whispered to himself.

‘What did you say?’ asked Jack.

‘It’s a Chinese proverb,’ explained Cheng, sitting on his haunches beside him. ‘It means only when there is no road left should we feel despair. And, because of you, I’ve escaped the fate of my fellow pirates.’

‘Don’t thank me yet,’ said Jack. ‘Our road is almost running out too.’

He studied Cheng and noticed something odd. ‘Why don’t you have a spider tattoo like the other Wind Demons?’

Cheng self-consciously touched his neck and looked embarrassed. ‘I haven’t earned my right to one yet. Any Wind Demon must prove themselves on a raid first – either by killing, stealing or saving another pirate’s life. I suppose now, I won’t ever get my tattoo.’

‘But why would you
want
to become a pirate?’ asked Yori, appalled by the idea.

Cheng’s brow furrowed. ‘In my village, nothing ever happened – except for never having enough rice to eat. And the pirates always seemed to have food. Every time I visited Penglai port, I heard their tales of adventure, riches and foreign lands – it sounded so exciting!’

Cheng looked round at their dismal prison with its scurrying rats and foul stench. ‘This is
not
how I imagined the life of a pirate.’

Hulled

Jack guessed that night had fallen. There were no windows or portholes in the bilge. The only indication of their progress across the Seto Sea was the creaking of the ship, the splash of the oars and the grunts of the rowers. The tortured screams from the top deck had stopped some time back: either Captain Arashi had obtained his answer … or the Wind Demons were all dead.

Jack realized he and his friends were on course to meet the same fate. When the
atake-bune
docked at Imabari in the morning, they would be delivered into the hands of
daimyo
Mori. The ruthless sea lord would have the means to transport them direct to Edo where the Shogun resided. Once there, their lives would no doubt be brought to a swift end.

Yet only the day before, the four of them were sailing south to Nagasaki and freedom. Aside from a dishonest captain, little had stood in their way. Now all their hopes had been dashed by a combination of vicious ninja pirates and cruel Sea Samurai.

‘Look! Saburo’s wiggling his toes!’ cried Yori in delight.